Betrayal
by speaker4thesilent
Summary: When you devote yourself wholeheartedly to a cause, without threat of punishment or promise of reward, doesn’t that entitle you to a little loyalty in return?
1. Chapter 1

Despite my best efforts, my muse has decided to go haring off after shinys.

This fic is set in an alternate universe. It's my take on what might happen near the end of the Winter War. This fic assumes that Ichigo and co managed to GTFO of Hueco Mundo after the events of episode 167 it also assumes a certain scene in episode 204 does, in fact, imply what it appears to imply.

As usual, if it's recognizable, I don't own it. I own only my fickle, semi-psychotic muse, and I'm not entirely sure I want to claim _her._

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_The faith in which we stand,_

_  
The laws we made and guard,_

_  
Our honour, lives, and land_

_  
Are given for reward_

_  
To murder done by night_

_  
To treason taught by day,_

_  
To folly, sloth, and spite,_

_  
And we are thrust away._

**Rudyard Kipling**

**Ulster**

Betrayal

Chapter 1

It'd been three months since our wholly unauthorized trip to Hueco Mundo, and I still wasn't sure how we'd managed to survive, much less kill off three of Aizen(hereafter referred to as 'That Rat-Bastard,' 'The Asshat,' or 'That Kami-Damned Sonuvabitch' depending on how pissed off I am at the moment)'s Espada.

Three months in which Chad and Rukia had recovered from their wounds and gone right back to training, Chad working on learning how to fully control the destructive power of his left arm, Rukia starting out on the long and frustrating road to learning Bankai and trying to learn how to wield Kaien Shiba's Nejibana. Three months in which Ishida sparred with Renji for hours each day, with amazed sixth and seventh seat Shinigami looking on, an unlikely friendship growing out of their team effort to kill the freakazoid eighth Espada.

Three months. Not a lot of time in the grand scheme of things, but it was the largest chunk of mostly uninterrupted training time we'd had since the whole mess with the Asshat started. Even Hitsugaya and Matsumoto seemed to have been 'corrupted' by our 'infernal human hastiness,' the Captain of the Tenth Squad training his Lieutenant (though most of us thought he was _actually_ working out some of his anger issues: something about sake and charred paperwork) as well as helping Yoruichi, Urahara, and Tessai with the new arrivals.

On the other hand, all of us knew that Aizen would be using the three months Soul Society's inaction had granted him to similar effect. So wasting time? Not something any of us were willing to do.

XXXXX

"No, no, _no_! For the last time, the medical supplies go to the Kurosaki Clinic, not the Urahara Shoten!" Ichigo yelled into the interdimensional cell phone, apparently hoping decibels would succeed where logic, asking nicely, and speaking to the original dolt's superior had failed. It wasn't a bad idea, but even Ichigo's generally effective temper didn't seem to be influencing the Soul Society bureaucrats that had absolutely insisted on screwing up a perfectly understandable delivery order. Said bureaucrat's defense only seemed to make him yell louder. "No, I don't particularly care that the clinic isn't an authorized arrival point! You're making a hash of our training patterns dumping this shit here!" Ichigo, seemingly listening to the pencil pusher on the other end of the line began turning an alarming shade of purple-red, and Yoruichi felt her lips trying to turn up into a grin. It wasn't really funny; no one considered anything that ate up valuable training time humorous. On the other hand . . .

_I can just _picture_ Ichigo charging through Soul Society strangling supply clerks one after another with both hands. _The purple-haired former Captain permitted herself to enjoy that thought for a moment before clamping down on any visible signs of humor as Ichigo stopped ranting. She wondered how the clerk on the other end of the line would look if she could see the smile on Ichigo's face as he spoke calmly and deliberately.

"Fine. I have some excellent people here, and we will _make_ the time to transport the materials to the clinic. This time." He spoke calmly and deliberately, absolutely no bite to his tone, though he seemed to be developing a twitch from restraining his temper. "However," he continued tone as mild as milk, "you _will _secure permission to transfer medical supplies directly to the Clinic without using Urahara's shop as a go-between, and you _will_ do it before we need the next shipment." Listening carefully, Yoruichi could faintly hear the person on the other end of the line try to interject, but Ichigo rolled right over whatever the supervisor tried to say. "If I am forced to take any _more _time away from training in order to inquire as to why my laboriously scheduled execises have been interrupted by Senkai Mon spewing cargo all over the place in person, you will not enjoy the experience. Assuming you survive it!" He yelled the last bit as he slammed the phone closed. For a moment, she couldn't help but wonder if he was going to crush, stomp on, or otherwise obliterate the spirit phone he was clutching. Instead of any further dramatics, however, he simply slipped the phone into the inside of his Shihakusho and stalked toward her an even deeper scowl than usual firmly in place.

"You heard that, I presume?" he asked as he leaned up against the wall beside her.

"There might be a deaf man in Tokyo that didn't overhear, but I doubt it. So, oh fearless leader, what are we going to do about this particularly spectacular fuck-up?" Ichigo turned his scowl on her, but she just grinned unrepentantly up at him, arms crossed over her chest, and his expression remained _almost_ as severe as before. Yoruichi, however, was well versed at reading Ichigo's expressions and body language by this point, so the slight lightening of his expression and equally subtle relaxation of his tense shoulder muscles told her she'd accomplished her objective. _Explosion averted, lets get back to work._

"We un-fuck it, of course. Don't you have a group of the Advance Force running through Shun Po drills in twenty minutes or so?" he asked and she took a moment to consult her internal clock before nodding. Ichigo nodded back before tilting his head to the side, obviously considering something and it was all Yoruichi could do not to marvel at him. _A year ago he had no idea that Shinigami or Hollows existed, and now here he is. _He'd changed so much from the childish boy she'd occasionally looked in on since before he'd been able to walk. _The last three months most of all. _

Training to invade Soul Society had started the process, and working with Shinji and the other Visored had helped it along considerably. But being one of only a dozen Shinigami _ever _to invade Hueco Mundo and survive had begun to put a true polish on him. He _knew_ that he'd gone off half-cocked and almost gotten two of his comrades killed. He was determined not to make that particular mistake again.

_So now he not only knows his own schedule, but mine and Urahara's and Toshiro's and Rangiku's and, and, and. Half the time I can barely keep Urahara's and my own straight. _He wasn't just training as a Shinigami.

He was forcing himself to become a _commander_ of Shinigami, which was at least as hard as commanding a similar number of humans, and arguably worse given some Soul Reaper's . . . _interesting _personalities. Someone had made a certain uncharitable statement about herding cats before he tripped over his own feet and fell down a flight of stairs. She was _pretty _sure that particular incident had thus far escaped notice, but . . .

Yoruichi forced her mind back on task when she saw Ichigo nod to himself, apparently having reached a decision. "How solid is this particular group on technique?"

Yoruichi found her own head tilting to the right as she dredged up the faces of the group in question before matching each face to a squad ranking and then assigning each a level of competence. A frown marred her features for a moment before she shrugged, "Generally satisfactory. They aren't going to be winning any games of chase-the-devil against even Matsumoto anytime in the near future, but they've all got the basics down. Some better than others, of course, but they've all got a good start."

Ichigo nodded in acknowledgement of her assessment, "Alright then," he said with a grin forming on his lips. "I think we've been remiss in our training, Yoruichi."

_Oh, this is gonna be good. _"How so, Ichigo?" she asked, eyebrows raised in her patented Look of Absolute Innocence. "Please tell me in what way we've failed our oh-so-dutiful students."

Ichigo tossed her a quelling look that just yelled, '_Laying it on a bit thick, aren't you?' _before he continued laying out the changes to the day's training schedule. "Well, it occurs to me that we haven't run any Medivac drills with any of the new arrivals. A horrible oversight, don't you think?"

"Oh, undoubtedly," Yoruichi agreed airily, though at the heart of the matter . . . _We really _should _have been doing something before this. Granted, Hanataro can take care of just about any single injury we're likely to have to deal with, but what if a half-dozen Arrancar got loose when there wasn't anyone around with the power level to deal with them? _And wasn't that a pleasant thought. Forcibly shifting her mental focus, Yoruichi shot a look around the packed courtyard of Urahara's shop taking in general shape of crates and boxes, a half-formed idea starting to fit together for how to set the drills up. It'd take some doing, but . . . "Mind helping me set this up, Ichigo?" Yoruichi asked as she started sorting the packages by weight and awkwardness.

"Yeah, well, mountain high, valley low," Ichigo said as he watched her get started.

Yoruichi got most of his popular culture references, but this one was obscure enough to puzzle even her. "And that means?"

Ichigo grinned at her, "Your idea, you lead."

Somehow, that didn't seem quite fair to the former captain of the second squad since the _overall _plan was his, but . . . a smile tried to slip over her features as she remembered what day it was, what time it was, and arrived at a conclusion. "No problem, Ichigo."

In the end, it took the better part of fifteen minutes to get everything moved into clearly marked out areas, starting with roughly torso-sized parcels for those with the least ability, and continuing all the way up to oddly shaped pallets that, in a couple of cases, were nearly the size of a small car. As Shinigami started to filter into the Shoten's courtyard, Yoruichi shot a pretend-casual glance at her watch and let an equally pretend frown slide over her features. "Hey, Ichigo, don't you have an orientation session with Nel today?"

_Ah, _she thought as the blond's eyes shot open and he cursed, _sweet, sweet revenge._

XXXXX

Well, that's chapter one of my newest fic. Hopefully my muse won't be quite so distracted as she has been.

I've actually taken the time to get several chapters (and bits of others) written before posting the first chapter this time. I'm hoping to get a chapter up twice a month on this fic, maybe a little quicker depending on how my inspiration holds up and how soon I can finish the last few chapters.

And that's it; I'm going back to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry for the late update guys. I spilled coffee all over my last laptop and only got the new one last week. Then I was too lazy to find my Jump drive and put all my fanfic stuff back on this one, _then_ the site wouldn't let me upload for like three days, sooooo.

Yeah, late. I'll try not to let it happen again. Still hoping to get this finished, but Nursing School is kicking my ass. After writing one or two papers a week I usually don't feel like doing _more_ writing for fun.

As usual, standard disclaimer applies.

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Chapter 2

How to explain Nel . . .

Frankly its not a subject that was widely spoken of at the time, even though its not terribly common for a Soul Reaper to meet a quartet of fairly powerful Hollows that aren't interested in examining his spleen. And liver. And any or all of his other organs. Preferably all at the same time and spread out over an area the size of a soccer field (non-aggressive nonentities generally being _eaten_ by their fellow Hollows). So unintentionally befriending said quartet of hollows (after mistaking the most powerful of them for a human child) usually isn't an issue.

Of course when three of the Captains of the Court Guard Squad witness said strongest Hollow holding off an Espada so a Substitute Shinigami and a pair of Arrancar can drag an injured Vice-Captain, an injured Quincy, a three quarters dead member of the Soul Society's nobility, and an equally badly injured half-Mexican giant along with the girl they'd originally gone to Hueco Mundo to save through a _Garganta_ and right into the middle of the Fourth Division's courtyard . . . Suffice it to say that exceptions are made. Even, or perhaps especially since Higher Authority didn't want it known that there were _any _friendly Hollows, much less friendly former Tercera Espada. So if said former Espada and her Fraccion would kindly make themselves both scarce and useful, say, in a city that a certain Asshat would just _love _to turn into the world's biggest crater . . .

So, yeah. That's pretty much the story of how Neliel Tu Oderschvank came to live in Karakura Town.

XXXXX

Nel took a quarter step to the left, shifting her balance even as she allowed the Shinigami's strike to slide past the point of her shoulder a bare millimeter from her skin. Not that it would have been able to pierce her Hierro in any case, but the point of this whole exercise was to give the fourth and fifth (and lower) seed Shinigami who'd been assigned to Karakura for what Ichigo called 'crowd control' an object lesson in just how bad an idea it would be for them to try and fight an Arrancar, much less one of Aizen's Espada. And she'd given the near-child she was currently sparring with quite enough time to convince even a thick-headed Shinigami that, had she been fighting seriously, he would be nothing more than a smear. In fact—

Nel's mental process cut out for a second as Ichigo jumped down into Urahara's underground training area, and a smile lit up her whole face as she absentmindedly avoided another futile strike. "Ichigo!" she called as she distractedly slammed an elbow into her opponent's shoulder hard enough that he hit the wall of the chamber forty meters away. Nel didn't notice.

The object of her attention had a fraction of a second to brace himself before she was on him. "You're late today, Ichigo! I had to start in on the new arrivals without you," She said as she wrapped the almost violently blond Shinigami in a literally bone-crushing hug. "Don't worry, I made sure not to hurt them _too_ badly," she continued, entirely oblivious to Ichigo's steadily weakening struggles and the way his face was turning purple. "—certainly went easy enough that they'll barely need that fourth division healer at all, in fact—"

"Nel!" Ichigo gasped, "Air!"

For just a second, Nel didn't get it. _I've been taking breaths this whole time. I don't need— _"Oh!" she said, letting go of her friend with a sheepish grin. "Um, oops?"

For just a moment, Ichigo glared at her in annoyance before he returned the grin. "At least you didn't break any ribs. No harm no foul," he said, his eyes flicking over her shoulder towards where the dozen recently arrived Shinigami had gathered around their fallen companion. "And, hey, it looks like Hanataro'll only have to patch up one of them this time."

Ichigo walked past her, and she fell in just behind him on his left. They got to the injured Shinigami just as his comrades helped him to his feet. Ichigo took one look at the man's shoulder before rendering judgment. "Dislocated. Maybe broke the socket when she popped it out, but nothing worse. Go see Hanataro, he'll getcha fixed up in no time," Ichigo was polite enough to wait for the Shinigami to get out of easy hearing distance before he started it on his analysis. "Alright," he asked, singling out one Shinigami, the twelfth seed from fifth squad, "what did he do wrong?"

The brunette woman had obviously expected the question or at least one like it, because she had her answer already prepared. "He assumed she was distracted when she yelled and he got taken by surprise when she still dodged his attack." Nel saw at least two other Shinigami nodding in obvious agreement with their fellow's assessment, and there was no obvious disagreement from any of the others. It took all the self-control she could muster not to shake her head in exasperation. Even after her demonstration they still didn't get it.

Ichigo, however, was less controlled with his disgust. He _did_ shake his head before he corrected the officer, "Letting his opponent surprise him was a mistake, yes, but he made an even more critical oversight." He looked around, visibly hoping someone would figure it out before reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose when they did not. "His biggest fuck up was thinking he was even capable of standing in the same ring as Nel in the first place." And just like the last time, all around the ring spines stiffened and tempers began to flare.

But before they could get out of control, Ichigo stomped all over them, "You're still acting like Nel's just a Hollow. She isn't. Against an opponent of her class, there was no way he could even hope to land a hit. Even if, by some miracle, he'd managed to _hit_ her there's no way he could have even left a scratch on her Hierro." Ichigo shook his head again at the sheer unthinking arrogance the Shinigami had displayed. "Just to drive the point home, Nel and I are going to have a spar. Watch closely," he said as he turned away from them vanishing into Shun Po, even as the ghost of his voice warned, "assuming you have the spiritual pressure to stay conscious."

Nel just grinned as the eleven remaining Shinigami gaped. She might not care about the audience, and she didn't really _enjoy_ fighting the way Ichigo did, but seeing the grin on his face as they crossed blades would have been well worth the time all by itself. The fact that she was training for to a rematch with Nnoitra at the same time was simply icing. "Do try to keep up," she warned the almost goggle eyed newbies as she likewise disappeared with Sonido.

In the end, it took less than five minutes for the all of the eleven to arrive. The last of them, the same girl who'd answered Ichigo's question appeared, apparently on her last legs and Nel met Ichigo's eyes, not even needing to speak to be understood. An ironic twist to her lips and an inclined eyebrow asked, '_Should I schedule a class with Yoruichi right away or run them into the ground for a few days first?_'

Ichigo's slight smile, as much in his eyes as on his lips, answered, '_Yoruichi first, once they're solid on technique we can run them till they drop_,' "Alright, then. Since you're all here now, I guess we can start," Ichigo said as he jumped down into the middle of the roughly football stadium-shaped crater in the ground that had served as host to dozens of sparring matches between him and Nel (and grown progressively deeper despite Urahara's efforts to the contrary) over the past three months. Nel hopped down only moments later and grinned at the smile spreading across Ichigo's face.

There was no real signal for the fight to begin. Still, less that a tenth of a second after Ichigo's sword came off of his back, her own cleared its sheath. Ichigo knew better than to waste time posturing and so, instead of anything elaborate, he simply fell into a middle guard and called, "Bankai!" Immediately two thirds of the spectators hit the ground, unable to remain standing in the face of The Substitute's spiritual power, and even those that didn't collapse immediately looked almost comically surprised, though whether that was because of the amount of spiritual pressure Ichigo was putting out or because he clearly expected to need it against her, Nel wasn't certain. A raised eyebrow and a slight smirk asked Ichigo, '_Ready to ruin a few people's preconceptions?_'

The grin on Ichigo's face widened by an amount so small that someone who didn't know him as well as she did wouldn't have noticed, but it was all the answer she needed. When Ichigo vanished into Shun Po, Nel was already tapping into her Sonido to pace him. Ichigo's blade came streaking in from high on her left in a downward slice that would have cut her in half from shoulder to just below her rib cage if it had hit. Nel, however, had learned how to fight in a hard school and her katana intercepted Ichigo's Zanpakuto without any conscious decision on her part; her muscles acting independently of her brain as she and Ichigo fell into a rhythm. Strike, parry, and riposte all the while playing tricks with their own individual faster than sight movement techniques.

Ichigo's style was utilitarian. No flashy frills and no wasted movements, every strike intended to cause at the least a disabling wound. A thrust at the knee, when blocked, flowed easily into a slash at her biceps. If nothing else, she'd managed to teach the young Visored something of how to apply his enormous power effectively. Still, though, Nel watched her opponent's movements carefully, content to let him remain on the offensive. Waiting until—

The moment, when it came would have been easy to miss; the young man had learned so much so fast it was easy to forget how new he was to the discipline. But Nel had literally a decade of experience with the sword under her belt. And so, when Ichigo extended just a hair too far on one thrust, drew himself just the slightest bit off balance . . .

Nel went on the offensive. And Nel's technique was about as far from the practical style Ichigo had adopted as one could get. A quick slash led smoothly into a forward flip that would have been hard to follow even without being performed at Sonido speeds. A strike at Ichigo's weaker side flowed into a low thrust which flowed in turn into a twisting roll around Ichigo's flank. Nel _could _simply stand and fight as Ichigo did, but she knew her strengths. Mobility, misdirection, and unpredictability were greater assets than either brute strength or her Hierro. Her strikes came from every conceivable angle pushing Ichigo to the limits of his ability, and the three Shinigami still conscious stared at the two combatants in absolute disbelief.

And just as suddenly as they had begun, they broke off. Ichigo gave a bark of laughter as the left side of his mouth drew up into a smile. "You'd have had me if you'd kept it up."

Nel returned the grin, if not so fiercely. "I would have," she agreed, "but you've improved. I thought my backward wheel would take you by surprise, but you reacted well."

"Thanks, now how about we take off the kid gloves?" Ichigo asked as he reached up for his mask. Nel shook her head in amused tolerance, but laid her Zanpakuto over horizontally, resting the end of the blade on the fingers of her left hand.

"Declare," she said as pink smoke began to drift from the sword, "Gamuza." Even before the dirt and small rocks kicked up by the sudden increase in her spiritual pressure had a chance to settle Ichigo charged into the cloud swinging. Once, twice, again and again lance and sword blurred through strike and parry until—

"Getsuga Tensho!" Tensa Zangetsu's blade birthed a wave of crimson and ebon energy that blasted through the air and into the ground where Nel had been standing moments before.

"Lanzador Verde," was Nel's response as her double-sided lance blurred through the air. Ichigo, well knowing it's power didn't bother trying to block it. A quick Shun Po let him slip out of the way of the former Tercera Espada's attack.

Ichigo also knew better that to try and press the 'advantage' of Nel's lack of a weapon. A half-second after her lance struck the ground, the stone surrounding it fragmented and the two-sided weapon cartwheeled through the air and back to it's owner's hand. For just a moment, there was a pause in the action as both of the combatants shared a grin.

Ichigo was the first to move, he took a single step forward before unleashing a Getsuga Tensho at Nel, who raised her lance to block it. Ichigo, however, used the few moments where her line of sight was blocked well, and a quick Shun Po allowed him to move around behind her.

He was in the process of releasing another blast of red and black energy when he remembered the new transfers and spat out a vicious curse, turning his head to see all of them passed out, and several of the lower ranked Shinigami barely breathing under the weight of his and Nel's spiritual pressure.

He started to turn back to Nel, already lowering his blade with the intention of ending the fight so they didn't accidentally kill one of the newbies when the back side of her two- bladed lance slammed through his chest. For just a moment, Ichigo could only look at the weapon in something like surprise, watching as little drops of red began to seep out around the edges where the weapon met flesh. After what seemed like an hour, but couldn't have been more than a couple of seconds he looked up and met Nel's horrified eyes. "Well, shit."

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Ah, the ubiquitous Cliffhanger. You can all complain about as much as you want when you click that shiny review button.

And that's it. I'm going back to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Another chapter! Yay!

*Ducks volley of rotten fruit and vegetables*

I know, I know, please don't kill me. I'm working on the fourth chapter for this now. Thanks again to my beta for reading over this despite her busy schedule.

As usual, I don't own Bleach. If I did things would be . . .different. Yeah. Let's go with different.

Chapter 3

The plan was Urahara's.

Yeah, yeah, go ahead and ask and get it out of your system now before you explode; you know you want to.

. . .

No? Fine, then I'll do it for you. Were we stupid? Or just out-of-our-heads climb-the-walls-and-tear-out-our-hair crazy? After all this is _Urahara _we're talking about. Mad Genius. Inventor of the improbable. He who likes to poke his nose into Things Men and Shinigami Were. Not. Meant. To. Know.

Not that I blame people too much, after all that rat-bastard, Aizen spent literal _decades_ half a step ahead of _everyone _including one former Captain of the Twelfth Division. Asshat that he was, Aizen had an almost preternatural ability to get inside Soul Society's decision-making cycle.

Which was the reason Kisuke decided to throw proper procedure, rationality, and common sense out the proverbial window. When he heard the final version of The Plan, Toshiro is said to have asked Urahara if he'd been concussed recently, because nobody with fully functional mental capabilities would ever consider something so illogical.

Urahara, being Urahara, pointed out that Logic had thus far been nothing more than a wonderful way to be wrong with confidence when trying to deal with Soul Society's own personal Evil Overlord and his Band of (Evil, Bloodthirsty, Deluded, etc.) Brothers and Sisters, so why should it start working now? Because they wanted it to?

See, the funny thing is that when people hear the name 'Urahara Kisuke' their minds seem to stick on the 'Mad' part and never quite make it to 'Genius.' Their mistake.

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"No fucking way!" Ichigo yelled at a grinning Urahara and an exasperated Hitsugaya. "Not only 'no', but 'hell no!' You are _not_ keeping me out of this fight!"

"Now, now, Ichigo," the annoying bastard with his irritating antique clogs (and that frigging fan!) began in his patronizing 'I'm Urahara and I have everything under control' voice. Ichigo wasn't having it.

"Kami damn it, Urahara! There's no way in hell I'm sitting out this fight. Not when we might actually have a chance to end this war and tha—"

For only the third time in the year Ichigo had known him Urahara cut him off. "And that is precisely why you have to 'sit it out.'" Urahara said, his voice, for once, totally serious. He reached up and adjusted his hat before allowing some of the humor back into his voice, "After all, the victorious general is the one who commits his reserve last."

"And that's _my_ point," the younger blond interrupted. "All Aizen has to do is open up a _Garganta _and he can call for reinforcements from Hueco Mundo. That means he's _always_ got a reserve so-" Ichigo cut _himself_ off then as he looked at the expression spreading across Hitsugaya Toshiro's face.

"Normally, yes," the silver-haired Captain of the Tenth Company acknowledged, the grin on his face was such that it was impossible to forget that he shared his soul with a dragon, "Unfortunately, Aizen is unaware of certain recent advances in the science of Spirit Particle Compression."

"The flip side of the equation, however," Urahara took over smoothly, "is that so is everyone else."

Ichigo scowled at his mentor. "I'm missing something, aren't I?"

"Not much," the banished former captain said with a manic grin firmly in place as he snapped his fan back open, "Just that the area of research I recently finished exploring explains the substrate reaction that catalyses the formation of the monopolar particle wall responsible for the creation of the _Garganta_, and thus allows for the destabilization of said phenomenon."

"Urahara, that might as well have been Russian." Ichigo complained, his expression suggesting that he was moments from taking Urahara's fan and inserting it into one of the Scientist's bodily orifices. Sideways.

"What he means," Captain Hitsugaya cut in, his smile still visible in his eyes if not on his lips, "is that we have a way to prevent _Garganta_ from forming or destabilize an existing _Garganta_ without preventing us from opening Senkai Mon," the corners of his mouth twitched minutely and even Ichigo could appreciate the control that kept the malicious grin off of his face, "So, in fact, it is we that have the ability to reinforce our units at will."

"Or we would," Urahara interjected, "If we dared _tell_ anyone about it."

While it wasn't a totally unfamiliar feeling, Ichigo did have to admit that Urahara was confusing him even more than usual. "Okay, I don't get it. Why can't we tell anyone? It's not as if that bastard still has-" Ichigo's eyes almost popped out of his head as he got it. "You think Aizen still has sympathizers inside Soul Society." It came out almost like an accusation, but Ichigo didn't bother to soothe potentially ruffled feathers. He was getting pretty close to sick of stumbling around in the dark because no one had bothered to tell him where the metaphorical light switch was.

Hitsugaya and Urahara exchanged a speaking look before they met Ichigo's eyes. Urahara spoke first, his expression and voice both serious again, "If he didn't have some source of information in Soul Society there's no way he could have known which of the gates Orihime was going to use to return to the living world. He might have been able to guess _when _she was going to return, but there are dozens of passageways through the precipice world. He'd have to have known the exact departure and arrival points to intercept her halfway, and no one on this side of the gate knew that she was even on the way."

"When you add to that the cleaner that almost destroyed the Third division despite supposedly being disabled by Twelfth . . ." Toshiro added and Ichigo couldn't help the grimace that spread across his face.

"Hell, there's a lot of guys in Soul Society that I don't like, but I can't picture any of them working with that asshole,"

"They might not even know they're working for him." Urahara commented, "Don't forget the power of Aizen's Zanpakuto. The person feeding him information might be convinced his reports go to the Secret Mobile Corps or the Shinigami Research Institute. For that matter he might be under the impression that he works directly for the Captain Commander or the Chamber of 46."

"Fuck, this is complicated." They all sat in silence for a moment before Ichigo continued, "I suppose that this means that I'm going to be running the message to Soul Society to get their asses here with every Shinigami I can beg for, trick into coming, or abduct?"

"Oh no," Urahara said with a grin, "You're going to drop off the radar entirely for a couple of days for some utterly fictitious 'special training' then you're going to have an equally fictitious, very public 'accident' and have to be sent back to Soul Society for treatment by Orihime," Urahara said it like he meant it, the smug look on his face suggested that he probably meant it, and his posture seemed to suggest a certain amount of anticipation for the end result. Looks like a duck, quacks like a duck . . .

Ichigo went ballistic. "He may be an asshole, but he's not stupid! No way in hell is that bastard, Aizen gonna fall for something that lame!"

"Oh, but he will, I guarantee it." Urahara stated, the same daunting look on his face as he'd worn when he worked on forcing Ichigo's Zanpakuto to manifest, as when he faced a life or death decision. The look that meant the part of him that had Ichigo's gratitude and respect was out from behind the clown's mask that it usually wore. When Urahara stopped bothering with his idiot-psycho mask, he didn't make promises lightly.

"What else haven't you bothered to tell me?" it might have been a demand, in fact, it _usually_ would have been a demand, but Urahara was on the short list of people who had his full confidence and respect, and times like this made Ichigo remember it.

"I finished the last of my work on Mod-souls," Normally that would have been said in his Look-at-me-I'm-so-great voice with emphasis from his fan and a big shit-eating grin. This time no smile crossed his lips, nor was there one hiding in his eyes. Instead his eyes flicked to Captain Hitsugaya and back precisely once, and the smile abruptly died out of Toshiro's eyes. Ichigo was far from the best at reading a person's expression, but something told him that the indomitable Captain Hitsugaya Did Not Approve.

Huh. "And this means . . . what?" Ichigo asked Urahara while shooting the occasional glance at the prodigy-captain.

"It means, for a very short period of time, one of my new mod souls can, when placed in a special gigai, perfectly imitate everything about the Shinigami it is attuned to,"

Which explained why frosty was pissed. If and when the old man found out about this . . . yeah, that was gonna purely suck. "So, this imitation me is gonna pick a public fight with somebody and—"

"Become a rather spectacular casualty," Urahara said with his customary grin. "And if Aizen thinks you've been sent to Soul Society so that Orihime can patch you up . . ."

"He might just try to move in and take over before Old Man Yama can send in reinforcements," Ichigo sent an impressed look Urahara's way knowing that his supposed absence would give Aizen a legitimate shot at taking over Karakura and turning it into a great big hole in the ground. "Hell, this might actually work."

"You know, I'd feel a lot better if you didn't sound so surprised when you said that," the former captain muttered before he continued, "You still missed a point in your analysis. We'll say we're sending 'you' to the main gate in the Seretai, while actually sending the mimic to the Kuchiki family's gate and observing the path to the main gate. That way we ought to be able to tell if Aizen has anyone placed in Karakura while throwing off pursuit and hopefully taking at least one Espada out of the fight."

Ichigo frowned a bit in thought, though ole Hat and Clogs certainly seemed to have thought of everything, Ichigo still didn't like the plan. He'd learned the hard way to respect the K.I.S.S. method of warfare; getting too clever was just an invitation for someone to step in and knock your teeth out while you weren't looking. Still . . . it had a chance. And that was better than anything the Soul Society types had managed to come up with since this whole mess started. Then he realized what had been bothering him since Urahara'd started explaining the plan and winced. "I'm not gonna get to warn anyone about this ahead of time, am I?"

XXXXX

And that's a wrap! Again, sorry it took so long to get back to this, but I've been distracted.


End file.
